Being Jasper
by cokesuicide
Summary: Twenty-five looks into the mysterious man and vampire named Jasper Whitlock. Written for the Twilight 25 challenge.
1. She and I

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **Feign  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper/Alice  
**Rating:** G

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or its characters. This goes for every chapter, but I'm only going to say it once.

* * *

She said determinedly, "You can't fake this one."

I said brusquely, "One would think."

She said pleadingly, "You wouldn't."

I said derisively, "Would I?"

She said fearfully, "That night in the truck."

I said preemptively, "Was purely physical."

She processed the information.

I remembered that night.

She reached out for me.

I backed away from her touch.

She opened her mouth to speak again.

I closed myself off.

She said my name softly.

I said goodbye loudly.

She walked away.

I watched the darkness swallow her up.


	2. Stolen

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **#20 Stolen  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper/Alice  
**Rating:** M

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

**Note:** This is an AU one-shot.

* * *

He wakes up that morning to the sound of his curtains being pulled open by his personal assistant. He groans and pushes his head into the pillow as his hand pushes it around his ears to block out her droning voice telling him about his day. He already knows there is a brunch with the shareholders at ten, a meeting with his financial advisors at two, and a party at the art museum exhibit that starts at seven. What he doesn't know is why his curtains have to be opened at eight when the sun is at just the right height to shine on him in his bed.

With another groan, he lowers the pillow from his ears and pushes himself up to a sitting position. He wishes he could complain about having a headache or other symptom of a hangover and blow it out of proportion so he doesn't have to go to brunch and pretend to smile.

"Do you want me to call Isabella again?" his assistant asks.

"Hmm?" he asks, trying to figure out why he would need to call his friend.

"The dinner tonight. You don't have a date."

He gets out of bed and walks to his closet, his silk sheets falling easily from his body and showing his assistant he's wearing nothing but boxers. He catches her blush once again. Five years together and she still hasn't gotten over seeing him almost naked. _Or,_ he supposes, _five years together and she is still picturing him completely naked_. The thought makes him smirk as he opens the double doors to the walk-in closet that's almost as big as many of the other New York apartments.

"No," he finally answers. "She's dating Cullen now." He moves around the room picking out a dark blue suit, a light baby blue dress shirt, and a blue, black and white stripped tie. He places them together on a hook next to the lounge chair and his shoes and walks back out toward the bathroom with his undershirt and a fresh pair of blue and white checked boxers.

"How about Rosalie?"

"I'm tired of asking my cousin to come along to these events. Besides, she in Paris."

He stops just outside of the bathroom and turns to face her. Frowning, he pulls her black framed glasses off her small face and opens up her grey suit jacket to see her dark purple camisole top clinging to small curves.

"You," he simply says and returns her glasses. He smiles and shuts the door.

"What?" she asks.

He watches himself laugh in the large mirror. "I'm taking you tonight."

"You can't do that."

"I just did," he yells through the door as he turns the water on.

"It's unprofessional," he hears her growl and he can only imagine that her teeth are clenched and her nose is flared. He doesn't move until he catches the shadows of her feet moving away from the bathroom door.

"This is going to be fun," he says to his reflection before starting his morning routine.

88888888

The day is long and slow and full of too much food and schmoozing for anyone to be comfortable. Thank God he finished with it all by five. As he lay on his bed wasting time instead of getting ready for the museum party, he thinks about what his assistant might put on for him or if she will even show up.

He smiles as he closes his eyes. Of course she will come.

That picture is all he needs to start himself moving toward his closet for the second time that day. This time, he picks out his black tux and to complete it, a skinny black tie and an expensive silver tie clip.

For the last time, he checks himself out in his full length mirror. His blond hair, which is starting to grow out to a length his late father hated, compliments his fair skin and helps his bright blue eyes to jump out. A lot of the women in the circles he is forced to be in are going to love him tonight.

That thought makes him sick to his stomach.

He goes to the kitchen to find a bottle of something to fix the problem, but the doorbell momentarily distracts him from his quest. Brushing off some none existent lint from his sleeve, he puts a charming smile on his face and opens the door.

Standing in front of him is a woman he doesn't recognize. Her short black hair, which is normally brushed down against her head, is flipped up in all directions. Her glasses are gone, her make-up is anything but subdued. The smoky eyelids make her dark irises sparkle, and her lips are so red all he wants to do is taste them. The dress she is wearing is black, short, and tight against the curves he peeked at this morning. Even the stilettos she is wearing makes her short legs sexy.

"We're going to be late," she says, the toe of one foot tapping the floor.

"So, no drink?"

"As your date, you're already minus a few points for not picking me up. As your assistant, I insist that you not be late to a gathering where there will be press. You have an image to uphold."

"I think my image can deal with being late," he grumbles as he gets the keys he keeps on a small table next to the door.

"What was that?"

"I said, 'You look nice,'" he says, coming back and shutting the door. He says nothing more as he places his hands in his pockets and walks toward the elevators.

The drive to the museum is long because of silence and traffic. His eyes try to stay away from her and her bare legs while his mind tries to shy away from thirty second daydreams where she successfully seduces him in his limo, performs a striptease act in his bedroom, and gives him a quickie in the shower.

"Are you ready?" she asks, her sultry voice finally breaking the silence.

He looks in her direction but is caught off guard when she is closer than he realizes. Startled, he jumps back. "What?" His voice comes out squeaky like he is thirteen again. He coughs back his embarrassment and pushes himself up to the door.

"Mr. Whitlock, don't—"

But it's too late. He falls back onto the concrete as the door is opened by a man whose only job tonight is to open doors and help the women out. His eyes stare up at the person wearing black pants, white dress shirt, green vest, and a horrified expression.

A heavenly trill comes from inside of the limo. "Serves you right. Now move; you're holding up the line."

He scowls and mumbles obscenities as he gets off the ground and brushes the dirt from his clothes. Cameras from magazines and newspapers mingles with those from broadcasting stations; they catch everything. He knows this will be talked about tomorrow, but once she moves in front of him and the cameras start shooting his back, his annoyance falters and a pleased smile appears.

The two of them schmooze with the right people, eat the small foods floating around on silver trays, and drink the free liquor at the two open bars. All the while, the two of them sneak looks, smirk and blush, flirt with each other without words. It is the best time he has ever spent at a public event such as this. When they get back to the limo, however, everything goes back to normal.

He's confused and she doesn't help him. The cruel game continues all the way to his apartment. When he places his hand on the door handle, she barely flinches.

"What's going on?" he asks, perturbed.

"The night is over. I'm going to borrow the limo to get home. It shouldn't take more than an hour," she answers, not looking up at him. Her fingers are playing with a sequin on her handbag.

His sigh is loud and fills the vehicle with heated air.

The door opens and he gets out.

88888888

The next day, he wakes up to darkness and silence. He checks his watch and sees that he was allowed to sleep in. It's unusual. The last time he slept in, he was in college. That was ten years ago.

He walks in his boxers to the kitchen. It's empty, and there is no note, no sign of his assistant. It's odd.

He gets the paper at his front door and waves to his neighbor's dog walker. A glass of orange juice and a piece of cinnamon sugar toast later, he opens the paper and heads straight to the Entertainment section. The most prominent thing on the page is not a picture of him surprised and falling out of the limo but a picture of him and his assistant, Miss Brandon. They are close, too close. His hand is on her back and his head is down next to hers. The photograph focuses on her face, her half lidded eyes and the slight blush underneath her already reddened cheeks, but he focuses on the wide smile and the hand on the hair falling brushing the back of his neck.

His hand lifts to rub that spot. He remembers the words he whispered in her ear, "The most beautiful woman in the room is mine tonight."

The words under the photo turn his words into something trashy: Another woman falls for Jasper Whitlock's charm at the Met.

He jumps up and quickly rushes through a shower. Black slacks and a light pink dress shirt are the first things his fingers catch as he flies through the closet that is too big for just one person. Running out of the apartment, he crashes into his driver.

"Mr. Whitlock, sir, you are late for your appointment."

"We're not going there," he says and grabs onto the man's hand, frantically pulling his driver behind him.

In the car, his leg bounces with anxiety. He doesn't know if he can deal with her not being there, so he prays she is. The mantra 'Be there' runs past his lips more times than he can count before the car stops in front of his assistant's apartment building.

He bursts out of the vehicle and runs up the eight steps to the door. His index finger searches through the names until he finds Brandon written in a familiar hand. He presses the button.

Nothing happens.

He presses it again.

Nothing happens.

He presses it a third time and an annoyed woman's voice comes on the other end, "What?"

"Alice?"

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Me."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"Jasper."

She sighs. "Mr. Whitlock, you're late for your meeting."

A hopeful smile spreads across his lips. "So, you're not going to quit?"

"Why would I quit?"

"Because of what's in the paper."

"Because of what's in the paper?" She laughs her melodic laugh. "Mr. Whitlock, if I was going to quit because of that, then I would have by now."

"Good." He straightens out, happy by her response until her words finally sink in. "Wait, what?"

"I've been waiting for you for five years, Jasper Whitlock."

This earns her another, "Wait, what?"

"Did you check your phone?"

"No."

"Mr. Whitlock, I left a message saying I was sick and couldn't come in. I then reminded you of the meeting you are currently missing. I then thanked you for last night and asked you why you didn't make a move in the limo. You were supposed to call me back to tell me you didn't make a move because you were a giant chicken, and you would like me to get better by Friday because you are going to take me out on a real date."

The only movement comes from his rising eyebrows as he stands in front of the intercom, shocked and a little turned on by her forwardness.

"Mr. Whitlock?"

He smirks.

"Mr. Whitlock?"

He raises his finger to the button.

"Mr. Whitlock?"

"Alice Brandon, I didn't make a move in the limo because I am a giant chicken, and I hope you get better by Friday because I am going to take you out on a real date."

With that, he saunters back down the stairs and into the car to attend the meeting he doesn't want to be at where all he will do is recall the playful looks and soft touches of the woman who used to be his assistant.


	3. Ripples

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **#16 Ripples  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper/Alice  
**Rating:** PG

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

**Note:** Just playing around with a thought.

* * *

Maria wanted a vampire army. She found a major who became her commander. He was in charge of bloodthirsty newborns.

Jasper felt too much. He gave three newborns a chance at a life he would never know. One of them soon found his calling.

James tracked humans. He stalked one incredible scent to an asylum. There he saw he wasn't alone.

Dwight was captivated by a girl. He changed her to save her from the other vampire. He was killed moments later.

Alice awoke without a past. She went to Philadelphia and found her future. She gave him a family.


	4. Come Back

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt:** #15 Return  
**Pen name:** klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper/Alice  
**Rating:** G

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

* * *

"They met in high school. From that first day, they became inseparable.

"She was a little eccentric, liked to dance around in the rain and talked about seeing the future. That was his favorite thing about her.

"Then something snapped. She yelled that the rain was tiny daggers and screamed about monsters.

"His world stopped when she stopped," the nurse shrugs, "everything.

"Now, every Saturday, he visits her to tell her about his week, giving her as much detail as he can remember. And every time he leaves, he closes his eyes and prays."

"For what?"

"For her safe return."


	5. Love in Tents

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **#7 Tent in forest (picture)  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing: **Jasper/Alice  
**Rating:** G

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

* * *

As much as he liked his study, he loved being in his simple sheet tent more.

In the house, the air was heavy. In the tent, the air never held him down.

Most of the time, she sat next to him as he read. They never talked, but they said so much, which caused the books he brought to stay untouched.

In the summer of 1971, he broke the silence when he finally asked her to marry him, the two of them sitting under Esme's old sheets in a random part of the forest marveling over how random fate was.


	6. Just You and Me

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **#19 Airport (picture)  
**Pen name:** klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper/Alice  
**Rating:** G

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

**Note:** I did a small canon piece!

* * *

She barely looked at rest of the family as she floated toward him. He could tell, with each step, she was fighting with herself not to run across the terminal and into his arms. When the space between them closed, everything faded away.

Through intense stares, she apologized and he counted every hair on her head. She vowed never to leave like that again and he found everything to be all right. She allowed her brave face to fall and he made sure she stayed standing.

They were there for hours, but in reality it had only been a minute.


	7. Our Moment

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **#3 Bliss  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper/Maria  
**Rating:** M

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

* * *

She bites my shoulder, and I wince. It makes her smirk; it always does.

I scratch down her back, and she bucks at the right time. It makes me smirk; it always does.

We roll around on someone else's bed, tearing the sheets in the process. This is after we smacked against walls and busted holes in the plaster. The owners are downstairs in the living room, but they don't mind. They won't mind anything anymore.

Even in the haze, I know this won't last, but right now - I bite down on her lip and pull - it's bliss.


	8. Hollow

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **#11 Hollow  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper  
**Rating:** G

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

* * *

I will never be blank. I will never be detached. I will never be still. I will never just be.

I will always have happiness. I will always have anger. I will always have sadness. I will always have.

I will pull them away. I will push them in. I will shift them around. I will transport.

I am not the muscle. I am not the reader. I am not the seer. I am the empath.

My emotions can burden others. Their emotions can weigh me down.

Each sensation gathers inside and chafes me raw.

I'm never emotionless...

…only hollow.


	9. Family

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt: **#14 Quixotic  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper  
**Rating: **G

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

* * *

**October 15, 1950** (Sunday)

I went out hunting with them last night. First I observed, then I hunted. The meal was lacking. I will need to go back out tonight.

Their lives are centered around their family. The home is typical of those in town. The family interacts with the townspeople on a daily basis, and they look to be holding their desires in. The "children" even go to school with the human children.

Their way seems to work for them, but, I wonder, how long is this going to last? And when it breaks, how will it be repaired?


	10. The Wrong Life

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt:** #17 Simple  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper  
**Rating:** G

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

**Note:** This is a sort of intro thing for a story stuck in my head.

* * *

_A blue house on the edge of town decked out in country kitsch. _

_A wife who snuggles next to him and hides her face in his shoulder during the scary parts of the movie. _

_A child he can teach how to throw a football and the finer points of baseball._

All he wanted was a life more ordinary.

_A small apartment in a foreign land barely stocked with food. _

_A dead girlfriend thousands of miles away under a common bronze marker. _

_A name saved for someone else on homemade identification in his back pocket._

What he got was anything but.


	11. Death in 1866

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**thetwilight25[dot]livejournal[dot]com**

**Prompt:** #2 Acquiesce  
**Pen name: **klutz82  
**Pairing:** Jasper/Maria  
**Rating:** PG-13

**Photos for prompts 1, 7, 13, 19, & 25 can be found here:**  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/16325[dot]html

**Note:** There is some Spanish. It was translated by Google translate, so I'm sure something is wrong.  
Sorry to those who can speak the language. I hope it's not too bad.  
The translations are at the end.

* * *

It was June 1866.

After gathering my wits about me, I took the chance to slip out from the farm we took over for base of operations. I thought I had gone unnoticed, but later I found that wasn't the case. Maria, as I would come to know her, caught everything. Because of my new talents, it only took a matter of minutes instead of hours to figure out where I was.

However, the town isn't important; the distance is. I was on the other side of Texas, the west side, a good couple of day's ride for a human even if that was all he did. I knew it wouldn't take me that long, but I also knew I was fighting against the sun. Even though I was mostly kept in a barn or a small house for as long as I existed as this unsettling creature, sunlight did find a way to kiss my skin. The result was a sparkle brighter than anything I had ever seen before.

There have only been two "things" in my life that have sparkled brighter, and, I must say, that is hard to accomplish with my eyes being as keen as they are.

But I digress...

I couldn't travel in the unavoidable Texan sun. Better yet, I didn't want to travel during the day. It wasn't because of getting caught. I already knew how tough my skin was, how easily my fingers crushed the world around me, but I still had yet to discover how life treated me.

Because Maria and her comrades were anything but life.

So, without wasting the more than the hour I already spent sitting as still as the rock I was on, I ran east.

I ran toward my past.

I was more than halfway there when the sun started to come over the horizon. I slowed down as I came up to a farm. Anyone who was standing in the middle of a pasture a hundred yards away could hear the animals still in the barn. My ears picked up one human walking on straw. Another human was walking on wooden planks and banging a cast iron pot. At that moment, I made the number one mistake of staying off the grid as a vampire: I took a deep breath and tasted the air.

The animal blood got to me first. The overlying scent was the same, metallic and musty, but there was a putrid decay that sat on every one of them, but the lone human in the mix... There was something sweet, something inviting that every human held but never knew about. My eyes were closed, and the sun was now trying to warm the pieces of my chest that shown through the tears in my shirt, but all I could think about was the two humans going about their morning routine.

At that moment, I thought about nothing more than food. I hadn't eaten for a few days. Maria liked to tease us with little morsels of food every so often so we'd fight over it, thus killing the weakest of us. Once again, I learned the reason for this later.

Without a further thought, I bounded toward the barn. The animals reacted before I tore the barn door back ran to the other side of the structure. To my annoyance, the farmer was trampled in the resulting stampede; I wanted to be the first one to draw blood. Nevertheless, I did drain my main meal before my sweet treat called outside about the commotion.

I still remember how a female's blood tastes: sweet as honeysuckle in its peak. The farmer's wife was no exception.

She put up a fight and tried to scratch at a face that was already scarred, none of which did any good. By the time the last bits of sun came out from hiding, I had finished her off and was sitting in comfortable darkness inside their quaint house filled with trinkets that reminded me of home.

Not needing the skills to act human at that time, I sat in their living room as still as their furniture watching nothing but a slight breeze on the trees and shrubs. When twilight hit, I finally stirred, bursting from the house as fast I could. For the first time since I woke up craving blood, I was lonely and longed for a familiar face. At that time, I hadn't taken the time to think about what I was going to do once I finally made it home. All I thought about was my young sister, not even old enough to think about a man's presence, my younger brother, a soldier not unlike myself, my older sister, a mother, and my parents, hard working people who knew hardships long before the war.

It barely took half the night to get there. Immediately after I saw the group of Judas trees along the side of the road, the same ones that, in the spring, flowered a deep pinkish purple, I sped up. Those trees signified the start of the Whitlock property, the property I was supposed to inherit as soon as I married.

The two story simple farmhouse seemed to pop out nowhere, much like the scent of stale blood.

The happiness I was beginning to feel started crashing down around me and despair took its place. No, they couldn't be. Who did it? Why would they...? Even young Mary? And why is...?

I stopped before my feet touched the wooden step of the front porch. I didn't even know a vampire could feel sick until that moment - I thought we were invincible - but so much venom pooled into my mouth that swallowing it burned my throat then swirled in my stomach, not unlike the moonshine I drank only days before I changed.

"Mira que tenemos aquí," a woman with a thick Spanish accent said as the squeak of the door announced her arrival.

This was the moment I realized Maria knew about everything concerning those in her army.

"Why..." I started out lamely.

"Tell me, what were you going to do when you met them, mi amor."

I stood mute, the question I never thought of ringing in my ears. After years of thinking about it, I think I would have watched them sleep and tried to remember some of the memories which had started to fade by then. I wasn't fully satisfied by the meal previously, so my hunger would have gotten the better of me, and I fully believed that until later in my travels when I allowed a little hope to grace my harsh edges.

"Exactamente."

She walked down the two stairs and over to me. Our eyes never left each other. Even when she floated to my left and softly ran her fingers up that arm to rest on my shoulder my eyes continued to move with her. When she pressed her body against my back, I froze. I didn't even flinch when she placed her lips against my jaw and whispered, "Ahora eres todo mío, mi amor."

"No soy tu amor," I said, catching lust that wasn't mine, the first glimpse into the power that would eventually drive me mad.

"No, not yet. But think of all we can do together."

"Why would I want to be tied to you?"

"¡Oh, tú me la herida!" She laughed "Tied to me, you will reap the benefits. You won't have to fight for food or your life, and you'll be second in command and get anything your corazoncito wants."

She placed a small kiss on my neck and walked away, her derisive laugh bouncing through the air. "I'll come back later. Le sugiero que quedarse fuera y recordar que con el color."

There is no official record of my death because I didn't officially have one, but Death did arrive on the doorstep of my home in June 1866 in the form of a beautiful Mexican vampire with an offer I reluctantly accepted trailing behind her deliberate and graceful steps.

* * *

**Translations from Google Translate**

**Mira que tenemos aquí. -** Look who we have here.

**Exactamente. -** Exactly.

**Ahora eres todo mío, mi amor. -** Now you are all mine, my love.

**No soy tu amor. -** I am not your love.

**¡Oh, tú me la herida! -** Oh, you wound me!

**Corazoncito -** Little heart

**Le sugiero que quedarse fuera y recordar que con el color. -** I suggest you stay inside and remember them with color.


End file.
